A Wakeful Sleep
by riya-chan
Summary: When the day ends, Noir fades.


Disclaimer: Tegami Bachi is the property of Asada Hiroyuki.

A/N: This story follows events in the manga and imagines a conclusion.

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><p><strong>A Wakeful Sleep<strong>

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><p><em>I was born tomorrow<em>

_today I live_

_yesterday killed me._

―Parviz Owsia

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><p><strong>-1-<br>**

When he awakens for the first time, there is only silence and a visceral, hollow ache within his chest. His vision blanches and his body—convulsing from the numerous still-open lacerations and fractures—is incapable of supporting his weight. A man's voice seemingly addresses him, though the pulsating pain within his temples makes comprehension futile. His heart yearns for something—_anything_—and he wonders if perhaps he has lost something indispensible.

The days stutter by like a broken film reel. A young girl in white nurses him frequently; her emptiness resembles his own and he finds solace in her presence.

She tells him that he exists as the once discarded shell of Gauche Suede—the man who achieved the impossible and was loved by all for it. He traces the scars on his neck with his fingertips and wonders how the story ends.

**-2-  
><strong>

He will never forget the first time he saw his sister, Sylvette—a disabled Albisian child with gentle features unlike his own. He was told he had lived his life for her. Her brother would have hugged her to him and apologized for leaving her alone for so long.

He should have missed her.

He visits her daily for a week without her noticing. The onslaught of nostalgia never arrives, only the emptiness of waiting. He decides to bypass her secretly on the seventh day. Perhaps if she could recognize his heart and validate his existence, he might be able to become Gauche Suede again. It was foolish—_childish_ even—but he lacks the courage to confront her directly.

The encounter is anticlimactic and over far too soon. Wisps of opal caress his cheek as she passes him by. He wishes he were capable of calling out to her, but only manages a wistful smile, gazing silently at her retreating back.

He cannot bring himself to visit her afterwards. He realizes his naivety then, of assuming that a dream-like existence could extend beyond his sleep. His reality is destruction alone. Seeking only to abolish the artificial sun, nothing else matters—_should_ matter.

Nonetheless, he feels his hollowness amplified. Lawrence smiles at this and redefines him as Noir—his marauder.

**-3-  
><strong>

Noir's breath catches in his throat. His chest spasms painfully at the location where the _tegami dan_ impaled his heart moments prior. Flashes of sepia-tinted images flood his mind at a dizzying pace. He inhales in irregular gasps as his mind is dissected by the light, his chronology appended.

"But I felt it—It was a strong, kind heart. It was the strong, kind person that I know!"

Lag's cry resonates within the crevices of Noir's sealed emotions. Could it possibly be the same heart? The light flickers and lulls. Noir breathes.

If he could become Gauche Suede once more, would he be loved as well?

The light returns at a painful intensity and soon overwhelms him. His consciousness fades shortly after.

**-4-  
><strong>

When Noir awakens, he finds himself in the hospital ward of Central's Beehive, surrounded by nostalgic faces. They survey him with the sanguine expectation that he was no longer himself.

Noir smiles genuinely—_Gauche's smile_.

The room exhales.

Sylvette and Lag lunge into his arms, embracing him with the tenderness and yearning of long separated loved ones. Noir envisions that this must be what it feels to be adored, beloved.

He discovers that it isn't difficult becoming Gauche Suede. The boundaries smudge, and more often than not, he finds himself incapable of differentiating the deception from reality. He discerns a gentle bliss: his little sister's homemade soup; Lag's transparent adoration; the sound of their laughter. He ascertains that he too cherishes them from the depths of his own heart.

If it would make Sylvette happy, he wishes he would never leave her again. But he does not make any promises nor does she request them; both are acutely aware that this happiness has a definitive expiration date.

The transient Eden dissipates before he is ready. Noir fires the Nocturne, rescues Lag, and forgets the consequences of revealing his heart.

In his egotism, he thought that perhaps he could become a source of happiness as well. He knows now that he has hurt them more than Gauche ever could. The façade shatters and he learns the meaning of loss.

**-5-  
><strong>

In the end, all things fall apart. Regardless of meaning, purpose, comprehensible truth, or essential value: ashes to ashes.

Garrard observes the boy in his keep with a sigh. Gauche Suede is emaciated. His shoulders jut out at sharp angles, sickly pale skin stretched over a fragile frame. It was difficult to characterize the threadbare ragdoll before him as the man who released the Cabernet and caused such wide-scale massacres across all of Amberground. Nothing remains: the monstrosity, Reverse, the futile efforts to destroy a grim regime—nothing except the debris of consumed cities.

Garrard isn't naive enough to think that the Cabernet or Suede abandoning his post were the only reasons he's now on a train accompanying the boy back to Akatsuki, nor is he altruistic enough to protect him like Thunderland Jr. with his cheap excuses.

But it isn't hard to sympathize. The kid had once shared a similar goal as himself: devoting his all to becoming Head Bee; only to arrive at the capital and have his purpose deconstructed by reality. Suede had seen worse. It could've been him. And yet here he was, on the opposing side of the law, retrieving the boy to have god knows what done to him again. The irony makes him laugh.

Gauche Suede wasn't cut out to be the hero who would save Amberground. He was too accustomed to loss, too unaffected by sacrifice for the cost of his ideals.

Garrard lights a cigarette and exhales.

"How much do you remember?"

"Not much."

"Do you remember the capital?"

"Yes."

**-Epilogue-  
><strong>

Noir dreams.

He is a child again with no knowledge of the world. The sky in dusk hovers above him and a barren wasteland spreads before his eyes. He steps forward, but his limbs, stiff from disuse, don't move the way he wants and he begins to fall. The earth beneath his feet shifts and swallows him.

He clutches a protruding rock on the wall and attempts to climb. The parched dirt breaks under his weight and the rock comes loose, causing him to fall once more. He tries, again and again, becoming desperate, until there is no longer anything for him to hold onto at a height which he can reach. Perhaps if he were a bit taller, a little bit wiser, he could have climbed out on his own. He wouldn't have needed anyone. _He would've been able live without causing others pain._ As he is, he can only wait.

Just as he thinks he'll be consumed by the emptiness, a young girl in white takes his hand and pulls him up. A single dusty path appears before them as if by her command. She does not smile at him nor speak, but simply pulls him forward and they begin to walk. He thinks that perhaps this time, it will be a happier dream that he goes to—a far happier end to awaken from.


End file.
